and this is why tomato bastard should lay off the wine
by Sushi-taro
Summary: It's one of those nights. Romano is bored out of his mind. What better way to spice it up than his old boss showing up at his doorstep. Especially when he's so drunk all he does is cry and way, "Romano!" Or is it? And when did Spain get this sexy? Spamano, one-shot, drunk!Spain, fluff and lemon, M for obvious reasons. From Romano's POV. Not my cover art.


_(originally posted: 03/03/2013)_

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_Hey guys! _

_Nothing much to say, just some angry Romano, some pathetically drunk Spain, some humor, some fluff, and a whole lot of sexy. _

_Enjoy._

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…**and this is why tomato bastard should lay off the wine.**

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_Romano's POV_

It was one of those fucking nights.

I sighed and shut off the TV, throwing the remote at the black screen. It bounced off and hit the hardwood floor hard, causing the batteries to pop out and roll under the coffee table. I swore loudly; now I'd have to go retrieve them later.

I was bored. So bored I was practically senseless. There was nothing to do! Absolutely nothing.

_Fratello_ was hanging out with that stupid potato bastard again. I would've told him off, but that _idiota_ looked so happy. And what kind of person would I be if I didn't let Veneziano our once in a while, though preferably not with that potato-muncher. He promised that all they'd do were see a movie and go out for dinner.

I snuck a glance at the clock. It read 11:28. It was late; where the fuck was my brother and that stupid friend of his?

The doorbell rang at that precise moment. I let out a sigh of relief. Great, potato-muncher probably got himself lost on the way back. At least I wouldn't have to chew out that bastard for coming home too late.

"About fucking time you showed up," I said, but stopped as I saw who was at my doorstep.

It was the notorious Bad Touch Trio. And they all reeked of alcohol. Really strong alcohol. That couldn't be a good thing. Prussia was on the far left, wearing a red beanie with grey jeans with a black hoodie. On the far right was France, clad in black skinny jeans, a white shirt with a purple foulard, and a fedora atop his muss of blond hair.

It's not like I ever talk to those two bastards, but it was obvious why there were here that night considering the person between them, so intoxicated he looked ready to pass out and die if it weren't for the two holding him upright. I couldn't see his face, but I knew exactly who it was.

"What the hell!" I bellowed. "You have no right to bring him here! Get out of my fucking land!"

France did his whole pity-pout face. "Aw, but Romano, Spa-"

"Out." I was NOT taking this bullshit tonight. I even pointed to the general direction of his home for good measure. "Now."

"Sorry _Italien_, but our friend here requested us to drop you off here. Specifically here." Prussia shrugged one-shoulderedly as if to say 'your problem now.'

Unamused, I glowered directly at France and Prussia, who were watching me expectantly. "You two have no right to show up on my doorstep with…with _him_ and expect me to let you in! Especially in that condition! I'm going to say this now, and I'll say it again. Get. The Fuck. Out."

"Romano~"

My dagger-eyed glare went from the perverts to Spain. He'd looked up from between his companions' shoulders. Even I'll say he looked a real mess. His hair was mussed as though he'd run his hand through it several times. His black shirt was half-undone and buttoned wrong so part of it hung over his waist on one side, showing two inches of skin above his low-riding jeans. Spain took a wobbly step forward and nearly fell. Lucky for him I caught him.

He'd gotten fat or something, 'cause I couldn't hold up his weight. Falling to my knees with his head in my lap, I smacked him lightly. "Oi, drunk bastard! Get up."

Then he looked up. His face was fucked up. It was obvious he'd been crying for some time. Tear streaks ran down his cheeks and his nose was red and runny. His lip was still quivering from whatever he'd been upset over. But the worst part was his eyes. Spain's eyes were bloodshot and puffy. They blinked and watched me forlornly as a lost puppy would.

"Romano…" he slurred again before hiccupping and sobbing drying.

This wasn't the Spain I knew. I felt my heartstrings get pulled a bit. Did I just say that? Forget it! I just pitied the dumb bastard. Yeah, he was just so pathetic there, crying emptily in my lap as though the world were about to end.

I sighed. "Fine! I'll take this stupid bastard off your hands. But just this once, you here? Now get the fuck out of my country!"

They seemed more than happy to comply. I didn't see the evil smirks they passed to one another, but I could sense those two pervert assholes were plotting something. As long as it didn't involve me or my _fratello_, I was fine.

Once they were gone, I snuck a glare at the mess at my feet. "Great, now what am I supposed to do with you? Oi, are you even alive down there?" He didn't reply, so I poked him on the head. Spain groaned. I took it as a good sign. "Look, just stand up."

He tried, and fell over into me again. "Sorry…"

"Never mind! Lean on my shoulder."

It took a few times, but I finally got that idiot onto my shoulder and walking into my home. He didn't even seem to register the fact that he was standing until I dumped him on the couch. Spain's cloudy eyes watched me for a while.

I sighed and sat on the coffee table across from him. I'd dealt with Veneziano being drunk over the moon before, but this was Spain. Not my dumb little _fratello_. Well, better start with the basics.

"Take off your shoes. I'll go get you some water and aspirin. That should help keep the hangover at bay."

He didn't respond.

I swallowed. Why was I nervous? Was it because I'd never seen him this fucking depressed before? I got up. "Don't leave this couch, you hear? I'll be back in a minute."

I wheeled around and left. It didn't take over a minute. The aspirins were conveniently in the kitchen near the water glasses. Don't ask my why; I just always found it as the best place to put them. I filled up the cup, grabbed a straw from a nearby drawer, balanced them all on a tray, and took them to the living room.

Thankfully the bastard hadn't moved. And he took his own shoes off, so bonus. I set everything on the coffee table and kneeled in front of the drunk idiot. I handed him the glass of water, which he almost dropped due to the shakiness of his hands. I took it back with a sigh. Honestly, what a dumbass.

Taking the straw, I helped him sit up. Once he was propped comfortably on the couch I put the straw in him mouth. After a moment – a really long moment mind you; my arm was getting tired by then – Spain took a sip. Then a glug. I managed to force two pain killers down his throat before the whole glass was gone.

"Drink slower, stupid," I muttered. "You'll throw up if you don't."

Then he started crying again. I sighed. Spain was beyond sloppy today. Taking the handkerchief out of my back pocket (I usually carry one) I wiped his eyes. Spain's eyes went wide, shocked. Then he blubbered and sobbed louder than every.

"R-R-R-Romaaaanoooo!"

"Godammit, quit crying!" I shouted. When he didn't, I stood up. "This is really annoying. I'm going to get you more water before you die or something."

"No!" His arms wrapped around my legs tightly. "No Romano, don't go! Please stay here! Please...please…"

He was really pathetic today. Beyond so. But I somehow decided to stay with him. Sighing, I sat back at his feet with a sigh. Spain's hand began to stroke my hair like he did when I was younger. Irritating, but I let it slide.

Still, I was tired. I began to drift off. As my eyes shut and my breathing began to even out, Spain asked me, "Are you asleep?"

"No, I'm just training how to die." I replied sarcastically. "Of course I'm fucking sleeping, bastard!"

Spain apologized and left it at that. Before long, that bastard was asleep. And I fell asleep there too. What? I was tired! And I turned off the lights first, so it's not like I wasted any fucking energy or anything!

**ヘ****.****タ****.****リ****.****ア**

Two hours later I was awake with a really bad crick in my neck. I massaged it slowly and winced. This would need a hot water bottle. I got up from the floor and shuffled to the kitchen where I knew I'd find one.

Boiling water is like second nature to me and Veneziano. We're constantly doing it. So preparing it wasn't an ordeal or anything. Once I had one safely on my aching appendage, I went back to where Spain was.

To my surprise, that stupid bastard was awake. His eyes watched me, glittering in the light that was leaking through from the kitchen to the living room.

"Oh, so you're awake now. Great." This came out sarcastically, by the way. "Not that you're up, I wanna know why the fuck you told your two groupies to send you here unannounced and unwelcome. I don't care what excuses you have. Tell me the truth. Got it, bastard?"

Spain regarded me for a while. His eyes glittered emerald in the dim light. Something about it was nerve-wracking, but I brushed it off.

He stood up unsteadily and dragged his feet towards me. When he got to me, Spain stood in front of me and wrapped his arms around my neck, slouching. I flinched. The warm water bottle slipped out of my grasp and hit the floor with a loud smack.

"Great, look what you've done. _Idiota_."

Spain just grinned sloppily, eyes closed in content. Then one arm moved off my shoulder and the hand on said arm snaked down my lower back. I froze this time. As that one hand went down, the other reached up to my hair.

Then he yanked my hair curl – which is clearly off-limits – suddenly. Hard. All the blood rushed to my cheeks. And somewhere a bit more…south.

"Chigi!" I yelled. Then I tried to knee him in the stomach (yeah yeah, I was nice enough to spare his balls; you're welcome).

But he did something I didn't expect.

Normally that stupid bastard would just take the hit and whine about it. It's not like he's good at dodging anyway. But this time, he caught my leg with both hands. I glared at him, but stopped. Gone was that happy-go-lucky grin. Bastard's smile was vicious, hungry. His eyes met mine and I gasped. They were glowing green with lust, pupils blown up and almost vanishing into the thin line of color left.

"Someone likes to play if rough, do they?" he growled.

"S-Spain?"

He took a step forward, forcing me to hop awkwardly back. Then he took another, and another; ten and I was pinned against the wall. It wasn't until then that he let go of my leg. I planted my feet firmly on the ground, but started shaking as his hands rested on my waist. I glanced down at them before looking back up. Our eyes met. Those emeralds kept boring into mine. I tried to shrink away from him, but he leaned in even closer.

And I was scared. This doesn't happen often, me being scared mind you. Uneasy, or worried maybe, but never scared. This time was different; I was really scared then. I didn't recognize this Spain. He was different, scary, and…sexy. I blushed at the last thought.

Fine, I'm bi. No point in hiding it, my brother is too. Dunno how we figured that out, but we are. End of story. That's not the point now. Swallowing hard, I whispered again, "Spain?"

He grinned wider, showing half all of his teeth. "Romano, you look so cute right now. Too cute."

I flushed even darker. "S-shut up, bastard. You're drunk. _Che palle._" That last part was more to myself than anything.

Spain, being Spain, chose to ignore me. Instead he nuzzled into my neck and breathed in deeply through the nose. I stiffened. "Mmm, just like a little _tomate_…ripe and ready to eat."

He bit me.

And then I retaliated. I backhanded him across the face.

"What the hell?" I shouted. "What gives you any right to mess with me like that? Fuck off!"

Spain wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared at the blood that was leaking from his split lip. He looked at me with murderous eyes. "Make me."

"What th-"

Then that bastard slammed me against the wall. In that jarring moment Spain went for my exposed neck, biting down on the same spot, but harder. I winced but didn't dare make a sound. I felt his tongue on my heating flesh, licking the mark before sucking on it. A high-pitched whine bubbled out of my closing throat.

"A-ah, bastard, st-stop it!"

I tried to push him off, but he grabbed my wrists and held my arms above my head. Spain's body pressed against mine, the hard wall pushing me back onto him. His lips were moving up my neck, teeth nipping after each searing kiss. Before long I had to bite my bottom lip to stop myself from making a sound.

When he reached my ear, Spain leaned in even closer and growled, "Enjoying yourself now, are we? Where's the feisty little fighter from a moment ago?"

I was about to reply when he took my earlobe between his teeth, tugging gently and roughly all at the same time. My mouth (now open thanks to my attempt to say something) betrayed me. I made a very notable gasp.

He seized the moment and shoved him mouth against mine. We were about the same height so it wasn't a hard feat for him. I didn't have time to do more than shout muffledly into his lips.

Which were surprisingly gentle. That threw me off slightly. His tongue entered my open mouth, exploring the cavity with deliberate strokes. God, I could still taste the whiskey on his breath; how much did he drink?

After a few smaller kisses, he attacked me again. Just the feeling of his lips moving against mine made me feel…warm. Wait, what? Fuck! Great, now that bastard was so drunk that the alcohol residue was passing on to me!

Somewhere in that time Spain had let go of my wrists. His newly-freed hand cupped the back of my head as he held me in place. At first I let him have his moment, but it wasn't long until I was pushing back with my tongue. As if he could dominate me that easily! We wrestled with one another until he finally pulled away, gasping. I was short of breath too. A strand of saliva connected us together. Gross. Spain cut it with his finger. We both got rid of what was left (I wiped it off with the back of my sleeve, he licked it up).

Then our eyes met and he smiled. Good; it was the smile I'd grown up with. Kind. Gentle. Carefree. Spain.

His eyes were still dark and dilated, but they watched me sadly. "You know," he whispered, voice husky and cracking, "when you first left I was heartbroken."

"What?" I was not expecting that after all that.

"You were free. Independent. You could be with you brother again and do whatever you wanted. But I missed you so much. You were always adorable, even when you were having your temper tantrums." Spain's gaze met mine and he smiled. "And look at you now. Grown up and confident. The spirit of South Italy. But I'll always remember you as my little _tomate_. And I'll always love you for that."

Now my face was a bright as a fucking tomato. Did he seriously mean that? What the hell was he talking about? Love me? Him? No, that had to be the alcohol talking!

"Y-you're drunk…" _But was that just my own excuse? _I shook the thought away.

"I love you Romano," he said. "I've loved you for so long. And I was so scared of it. I was your _boss_; I _raised_ you. I couldn't love you like _that_, like the way I do. Like this."

He kissed me on the neck.

"Or this."

The chin.

"Or this."

The tip of my nose.

"Or this."

Spain leaned in towards my lips, but I stopped him with two fingers. His eyes, which were half-lidded, opened. They looked so pained. "I'm sorry."

He pulled away. And I grabbed him around the neck with both hands and kissed him on the lips.

I know what you're thinking: what the fuck was I thinking? To be honest, I really wasn't. I just did. Something he said, something about it just made me react the way I did. So it was all Spain's fault, see? I was the fucking victim here, got it? (A willing victim, but details aren't that important!)

I had my eyes closed, but when I finally opened them Spain was staring at me numbly, his wide open in shock.

"Romano?"

"Shut up and kiss me, bastard!"

And kiss me he did. So hard and passionately that I was literally dizzy from it all.

And then he went a step further.

Everyone in the world's aware of why hair curls are off limit. No one's really sure why or how some countries obtain them and not others, but it's something you've gotta deal with. Usually they're annoying and hard to deal with. But sometimes, quite rarely, they're amazing.

Today was one of those rare amazings.

Spain took my curl and began to wrap it leisurely around his index finger, rubbing it with his thumb at a tantalizing, agonizingly slow pace. I couldn't stop myself – I moaned loudly, head thrown back and breath coming out in pants. The heat, the _pleasure_, coursing though my entire body was unbearable.

He was pressed against me again, but I couldn't resist him. Not with my body melting like putty against his. Fire ran through my veins. I couldn't see or speak or breathe, only gasp and moan and want more. Much, much more.

Before long I was keening in frustration and bucking unconsciously against Spain's thigh. Even after he let my hair go I wasn't able to stop myself. My arms were wrapped around him tightly despite the rest of my body shaking uncontrollably. And I was totally, undeniably, completely, noticeably, extremely, embarrassingly, one-hundred percent hard on.

And I could feel him against me in a similar state.

"Shit," I muttered. "_Oh mio Dio, Spagna!"_

He was gasping too, head resting in the crook between my neck and shoulder. Spain nipped me on the ear one last time before whispering one word.

"Bedroom."

I grabbed his wrist and lead him upstairs. No second thoughts.

The moment we got there his hands were on my hips and his lips on mine. We stumbled backwards, tongues clashing as we embraced in a fiery kiss until my knees hit the bed and I fell back. Spain was upon me in a flash. He held himself up with his arms, kneeling with his legs on either side of me, leaning down to bite any bit of exposed flesh along my neck and collarbone.

When this wasn't enough Spain forced his hands under my plain cotton shirt and pulled it over my head. Him mouth followed before I had the chance to comprehend what he'd just done.

I reached up and groaned in frustration at the amount of clothes he was wearing. In the spur of the moment I ripped his shirt open. It was probably a nice shirt, but I didn't care. The buttons popped off, leaving his bare chest and stomach for me to see in all of their glory.

Remember that earlier statement I made, about Spain getting fat? Forget it. Forget it all. He was drop-dead gorgeous. His skin was evenly tanned and seemed to glow with life. There were scars littering his body, making it less flawless but more…real. I dunno how to say it – there was just something about it that made me reach up and stroke his bare flesh.

Did I mention the muscles? No? Well, Spain's not ripped, but he had a very well-defined, masculine figure. One that made me fucking jealous. Veneziano and I were never on the athletic side anyway, so we stayed soft compared to the others. Though good sprinters we make.

I noticed a small golden cross hanging from Spain's neck. Same as mine. What would the Catholic Church think of this?

I pushed the thought out of my mind as he attacked my neck with his teeth. My hands were pinned under his heated flesh, compressed and released with each heavy breath he took. Spain gasped.

"You," he panted, "are okay with this?"

"If I wasn't we wouldn't be here in this state," I reminded him.

Spain seemed to hesitate. "I may go too far. I may not be able to stop. I may hurt you."

"And I'm taking the fucking risk," I retorted irritably. "Look, are you going to fuck me or ponder your morals and leave us unsatisfied for the rest of the fucking night? I don't exactly want a case of blue balls, _idiota_." When he didn't say anything, I placed a hand on his cheek. "It's okay. Besides, am I the type to let you do anything to me? I'd fucking blow your head off if you did do anything."

"Not unless I blow your head off first!"

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

Spain grinned wickedly. Great. Now his sadistic persona was back. Still, at the same time, I was shivering in anticipation. Something about this Spain was really fucking hot!

His hand went from either side of my head to the waistband of my sweatpants. Don't judge, I was wearing pajamas: a plain white t-shirt and black sweatpants. Spain pulled my pants off in one fluid motion, eyeing my boxers and the tent building up in them from his scrutiny.

"Someone's excited," he said. God, when his voice was this deep, it was a fucking turn-on. He palmed the damp spot on my boxers and grinned. I keened.

Spain pulled them down more slowly than necessary. Freed from the material, my erection popped out. It stood tall and proud and leaking precum like nobody's business.

I blushed, refusing to look down as Spain observed my length. Though I wasn't looking I could feel his eyes on my naked glory. Then a few fingers brushed my inner thigh, followed by his lips leaving butterfly kisses. I hissed, leg spasming involuntarily. Then he licked the juncture between my leg and crotch.

I literally almost kicked the fucking bastard. If he wasn't aware enough to pin my legs down with his hands I would've. But he kept my legs wide apart and open for him to see.

"Q-quit teasing," I stuttered.

He responded by running a finger up my length. "Are you sure? I'm quite enjoying this. I think you are too, secretly. You're not the type to speak your mind, are you Romano?"

I remained silent.

"Well, if you won't speak, then I guess I shouldn't keep you waiting."

I felt his breath on my leaking erection. This wasn't right.

"What are you doing?" I gasped.

Spain looked up at me and grinned. "Blowing off your head. Since you didn't seem too keen on it, I'll do the honors."

_Oh god_, I thought, biting my hand. W_hen the hell did he get this lewd? And how the fuck did he get that double meaning?_

I didn't have much longer to think that as Spain took me in his mouth. Just the head. I moaned, one hand tangling into his thick curly brown hair. His tongue made lazy swirls around the slit before he slid down another two inches. Though his mouth stopped, his tongue continued down the underside of my shaft, up and down with purpose.

I couldn't help it; I shoved Spain down with my hand. He gagged at first, but his face relaxed after a moment. He hollowed in his cheeks and began to suck. Now I gagged. The pleasure was indescribable. But it was there and true and fucking incredible!

"Move!" I demanded.

He bobbed his head, slowly at first, then picking up speed. Spain began humming a song I couldn't recognize as he kept dipping his head. I was so immersed on cloud 9 I didn't even have the energy to force his head to continue moving. Spain might've been blowing me off, but he was in complete control. And I didn't care.

It wasn't long before the euphoria of the whole experience was taking over. I could feel heat coiling in the pit of my stomach like flames with each lapping, sucking, bobbing _perfect_ he was delivering to me. Spain was abso-fucking-lutely erotic. He had just the right amount of tongue, cheek, and teeth scraping and suctioning around me.

My voice was betraying, making nothing but pleasured noises. My few words were barely intelligible. Mostly good, there, and oh God.

I could feel my release coming. So close I could practically taste it. My body was already starting to tense and ready itself from what was about to happen. I was going to cum…

…when his mouth popped off my length with a pop.

Imagine me, lying with my legs spread like a gymnast, red as a lobster and panting as if there's no tomorrow. Get the picture? Got it? Good. So you'll understand how fucking pissed I was when that bastard wouldn't allow me my sweet release.

"Fucking cockblock!" I yelled down at him. I grabbed the cuff of his shirt (because my hand was no longer in his hair) and pulled myself up to his face. "Why wouldn't you let me cum?"

Spain smirked. "Would you really let me finish you before I've had my fun?"

"You already had your fun, bastard!"

He detached my hand with his much more masculine one. Without saying a word he pulled off his tattered shirt and flung it behind him. Then he yanked off his socks and discarded in the same manner. Spain's jeans were kicked off and shoved to the foot of the bed. All that clothed him were his cross and his boxers.

And then it was just a cross.

Holy shit. He was a god! A fucking perfect, toned, well-endowed god! Emphasis on well-endowed.

He was giving me a shit-eating grin. "Define 'fun.'"

I looked at his cock nervously. Shit, it was thick. Now I was having second thoughts. "Um, Spain? We should stop…"

"What's the matter Romano? It's not like you've ever done this before~"

I blushed and looked away.

He sounded surprised. "You mean you haven't?"

"S-shut up! Fucking bigot."

"Romano?"

I buried my face in the pillows in shame. _Dio_, I couldn't look as him. Not after that. Little known fact: my _fratello_ and I are…well versed in the knowledge of love-making, but when it comes to performing, well…just look at the state of our economy and the decrease in birth rates and you'll see why.

I felt the bed shift as Spain slid down next to me. His hand brushed my hair and stroked my face gently. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. I promise I'll go slow, okay? Trust me Romano, I don't want to hurt you. Okay?"

I snuck a peek at him. His eyes were so full of love and concern that I felt safe. Slowly, I rolled over and nodded.

"Slow, okay? That's a promise, right idiot?"

"Of course."

Spain kissed me again. I leaned into it slowly. Even his lips were gentle then. When we pulled away, Spain asked, "Do you have any lube?"

I blushed more. "…no."

"That's okay. Here, suck." He held three fingers near my face.

I took them into my mouth. I knew that this was important. My tongue slid over each digit carefully, making sure they were coated with saliva. Once I was satisfied, I took my mouth off of them and nodded.

The first finger was wormed into my entrance slowly. I clenched at the foreign intrusion.

"Relax," whispered Spain.

I did. It didn't hurt, but it was…strange to say the least. It's not like I'd ever done this before! I could feel his finger rubbing me on the inside, making slow circles. It was annoying. Ridiculously so. "Quit teasing and get on with it!"

In response, he shoved a second finger in. I hissed. They began to curl and stretch my entrance, scissoring and moving in and out all at the same time. I could feel myself getting excited again.

Before long Spain was worming the third in. I clenched my teeth; this wasn't good, it hurt.

"Ow…"

"Shh, it's okay, just relax. It'll feet better soon, I promise."

I wanted him to pull out, tell him to stop, but instead he kept moving at different angles. What the fuck was he playing at? I didn't get it. And then I saw stars.

"Ah! There!" I screamed.

"Found it," Spain growled.

His fingers brushed over the little nub again, causing me to whimper. Shit, I needed more. I bucked into his hands slightly. "Spain, please, more."

"Say my name."

"What?" I propped up on my elbows and glared.

"I want you to say my name. In my language."

"Fuck that shit!"

"Ah ah," he tutted while removing his fingers. _"En español."_

I wanted to yell at him, really I did, but the want was too much. _"E-España."_

"There we go. That wasn't so hard, was it?" he cooed. "Now, what do you need?"

"What do you think? I fucking need mor-"

"_En español~"_

I remained silent for a moment before whispering, _"Por favor, España. Necesito más."_

"There we go…"

He began to pound me with his fingers, but I didn't care anymore. God, it felt so good! So fucking good! I could feel the heat coiling in the pit of my stomach. That fast? Really?

"Ah…_Spagna_…I-I'm gonna…"

And then he stopped.

I looked up. "What the fuck? Why did you stop? Keep going!"

"Patience, Romano," Spain whispered. "You don't want to finish before it's all over, do you?"

Spain grabbed my ass with both of his strong hands. His mouth was practically over my entrance. What…no. He wouldn't!

He did. I cried out as his tongue slid in, coated with saliva. The sensation made my mind go blank and a moan to escape my throat. Shit, why would he do that?

Spain paused and looked up at me from around my cock. I groaned.

"You're dirty," I muttered.

"I know~"

And then he went right back into being dirty. He mouth-fucked me vigorously. I moaned and huffed, turning into a flushed, writhing mess as his tongue worked expert magic on my body. His hands moved from my asscheeks to my asshole. Spain continued to lick as he began poking me. His eyes met mine; they seemed to glow with amusement. Then two index fingers pulled me open.

I screamed in pleasure as my back arched. Spain enjoyed a few more licks until his wet muscle slid out from me. His eyes met mine and he grinned wolfishly. "Get on your hands and knees."

He didn't need to tell me twice. Flipping over, I positioned myself with my ass facing him, propped on my knees and elbows. It was really humiliating, but it didn't seem too as he rubbed against my entrance. Then his head was pushed in. What slick from his tongue was left let it slide in easily.

"Mm, Romano. Ah," he gasped. "You're so tight. So hot."

I knew he was going slowly, but the pain was undeniable. My fists clenched the bedsheets as I gritted my teeth. Spain kept going. I couldn't help it: I tensed up.

"Ah, _Spagna_, it hurts."

He leaned over my back and stroked my hair. "Relax. It'll hurt less if you do."

"It hurts now, dammit!" I shouted. "Stop!"

Spain stopped. By the way he was panting this wasn't easy for him either. He was probably using every ounce of his patience to stop himself from shoving his entirety in my virgin ass. He didn't pull out though, so it didn't help me much. I was crying in pain now.

"Spain, please stop."

He seemed conflicted, still not moving. Spain pulled out slightly and draped himself slightly over my body as he reached to stroke my hair gently.

"Shh, it's okay," he whispered. "I'm here. I promise I won't do anything to hurt you, okay?"

I whimpered, "Then take it out."

Instead Spain grabbed my hair curl. With his mouth. I think every bordering country could've heard me screaming from the ecstasy. Shit. My legs turned to Jell-O and I nearly collapsed as my vision turned white and my mind went blank.

Spain let go of me. "See, that wasn't so bad now, was it?"

"What?"

Then I realized he was fully sheathed. As in completely balls deep. And I was still loose from the sudden abuse to my erogenous point. I snuck a peek over my shoulder at Spain. He looked as on-fire as I felt. His eyes were on mine.

"I won't move until you're ready."

_Here we fucking go_, I thought before taking a breath and saying, "Go ahead."

I didn't need to tell him twice. Spain nodded and slid out of me slowly before slamming back in. My mouth was hanging over as a strangled sound escaped its cavity. Fuck, this was rough. But I could tell Spain was taking it slow. He kept whispering sweet nothings to me while fucking me.

But I was adjusting to his girth. "Move faster. It's not like I'm a fucking pansy or anything! I won't break, bastard!"

I definitely didn't need to tell him twice.

The pace immediately quickened, and rougher, but in a good way. I moaned as my face was shoved into my pillows.

It was good sex, but even I (the virgin) knew it wasn't great yet. I could feel Spain pushing in at different angles, trying to find that one magical spot. I can't say I wasn't helping him. It didn't take long to find my prostate again.

I tightened around Spain and screamed his name at the top of my lungs. He just groaned. Anticlimactic, I know.

"Romano," he gasped, "was that it? You got so tight!"

"What do you fucking think? Get on with it!"

"Oh, feisty~"

Damn, that sarcasm.

He flipped me over so I was flat on my back. Before I had a chance to complain he shoved his length back inside me. I screamed in delight.

"I want to see your face," he growled huskily. "I want to feel your eyes on me. I want to taste your lips on mine. I want to hear you scream my name when you cum. And I want to watch it all."

Fuck. How could I say no to that?

Our lips clashed in a passionate kiss. It didn't last long; we were fighting lack of oxygen, and my head was spinning from the loss of blood as it all traveled down. I didn't want to imagine how Spain felt with all the alcohol added to the equation.

All the while Spain was in me, nailing me again and again, skin slapping skin, until I was losing all sense of surrounding. His accuracy was beyond superb. I couldn't even breathe as the pleasure coursed through my body.

He kept pounding inside me, but it wasn't enough.

Sorry for sounding like a fucking slut, but I needed a lot more. Faster, harder, deeper. Just the thought was making me spread my legs wider. Spain began to pick up his pace, thrusting even deeper than before. His breath was becoming ragged; it wouldn't be long now until he was finished.

I wasn't doing much better. Forget my body, even my voice was losing its thunder. Though my moans were weakening, they were very audible. And they seemed to be throwing Spain over the edge.

This was it. "_S-Spagna_, so close…I'm g-gonna…"

"Me too," he breathed.

Spain reached down and pumped my neglected length. I cried out and climaxed right then and there.

"_ESPAÑA!"_

The way I came put Mount Vesuvius to shame. I won't go into the gritty details, but I will say I was milked dry by a certain expert hand belonging to a certain country called Spain, covering both of our stomachs and chests in my glory. There you go – fangirl all over that fucking tidbit.

I tightened around Spain, who moaned loudly. Head thrown back, his hips continued to rock forward at an impossible speed. As I rode out my dry orgasm he came while shouting my name to the skies. I could feel his seed spurting into me like magma. With three slower thrusts he finished.

He pulled out a now-flaccid member. Spain flopped down beside me, exhausted. I lay there as his release gradually spilled out of my entrance and onto the bedsheets. Even as I relaxed with Spain lying beside me all I could think about was the mess.

Spain was thinking about it too because he took part of the sheet we were lying on and began to wipe down my chest.

"Here," he murmured as he cleaned us both up.

"Thanks," I muttered in return, but not harshly.

Spain kissed me on the forehead before turning over and falling asleep.

All that filled the dark room was the sound of our breathing and the musky scent of sex. It'd be okay; I left the windows open so the ocean breeze would clear that out by morning.

I balled up the soiled bedsheet, pulled my pajamas back on – after hunting them down – and fell asleep beside him. Spain's arm draped over my body, but I decided to let him be.

**ヘ****.****タ****.****リ****.****ア**

_Spain's POV_

My pounding head woke me up. I groaned, and winced; looks like my hangover was worse than I thought it'd be. I didn't even have the energy to sit up. Instead I flopped my arm out from the sheets I was tangled and groaned as my eyes cracked opened. Sunlight was pouring in from the window. I looked to my left; why'd I place my bed where dawn would wake me?

_Wait, what?_

I blinked a few times and forced myself up. My head pounded even worse than before. I swayed a bit, clutching my forehead and leaning forward slightly to steady myself. Though my thoughts were still a sluggish, I managed to work out a few thoughts.

1.) My bed wasn't where it normally was.  
2.) These sheets weren't mine; I had yellow, not white.  
3.) I had no recollection of last night aside from going to the bar with France and Prussia.  
4.) Last night, I was distressed about Romano.  
5.) My phone was ringing.

Groggily, I fished it out of my jeans – which were at the foot of the bed – and answered it. _"¿Sí?"_

"_Allo, Espagne?_ _Bonjour!" _France's voice came. I flinched at the sudden noise and held it away. Damn, I'd need to get a quieter phone; that thing was as loud as speaker. That, and France needed to learn how to not shout so early in the morning._"Comment ça s'est passé?"_

"How did it go, what? _Mi amigo_, you're not making any sense to me," I said hoarsely.

He sighed dramatically. "You know, with little Romano~"

"Ro…mano?"

"_Oui_, what other little love of yours would I be talking about? _Bien sûr_ it is Romano! So, did you confess your love to him? Or I should ask," he asked, voice suddenly getting lower, "how far did you go?"

"I really don't know what you're talking about…"

"_Spagna?_ Who's that?"

I froze. No, it couldn't be. I turned to my right. It was. Next to me was Romano.

_What?_

All the little pieces started to fall together then. The drinking, the crying, the…that. Everything. Even France's shady question (which only ended up being true). My eyes widened as Romano rubbed his blearily. I'd never felt this vulnerable in my life. I didn't just do it with him, did I?

"_Oh, Dios mío..._" I groaned loudly, my head in both hands now. I didn't!

From the bedsheets my phone began laughing hysterically. "Ohonhon, so you _did_ do it with him! I knew you would! I knew it! _Prusse_, you owe me fifty!"

"_Was im Namen meiner fünf Meter_? You're kidding! I didn't think he had the guts!" I heard Prussia shout in the distance. "Aw man, _Spanien_, I'm so proud of you! Not as proud as _mein bruder_ though. Speaking of which, you owe me thirty euros for that _Frankreich_!"

"We never agreed to that, you little cretin! You knew the intentions of your precious _frère_!"

"Wait," Romano growled, picking up the phone, "are you saying my brother had sex with that fucking potato-eating bastard?"

France laughed wickedly – not a good sign. "I heard he rode~"

"Too much info, guys," I said warily. I did not want to know how they figured that out.

Romano sat in shock, pale as a sheet, for all but two seconds before blowing up. Holding the phone to him mouth in his fist, he shouted at the top of his lungs, "LISTEN HERE YOU FUCKING PERVERTS! IF I FIND OUT THAT THAT FUCKING SHITHEAD POTATO DID SO MUCH AS LAY ONE HAND ON MY BROTHER, I WILL GATHER THE ENTIRE ITALIAN MAFIA AND I WILL FUCKING BLOW UP GERMANY AND THE VERY MEMORY OF PRUSSIA! DO YOU HEAR ME?"

"Loud and clear." Prussia didn't seem amused. "How unawesome. Look, if your _bruder_ loves my _bruder_ you should let them be. Chill out. It's just sex."

"I WON'T JUST 'CHILL OUT' BASTARD! YOUR _FRATELLO_ FUCKING TOOK MINE'S INNOCENCE AWAY!"

"Romano," I forced out, "can you shout any louder? It's not like I've got a hangover or anything."

I didn't mean to sound so sarcastic (or evil for that matter), but my head was literally killing me. Romano stopped yelling and looked kinda meek.

"_Mi dispiace."_

He was adorable, but I could only manage a small smile. I took the mobile from his hand. "_Francia_, _Prusia_, I'll talk to you two later. Okay?"

"_D'accord!"_

"Fill us in on the details when you do!"

With that the line went dead. I collapsed into the pillows and groaned again loudly. Why did they have to call me, only to piss Romano off further? Memories were beginning to flood back into my mind now, and none of them were proud ones.

I felt a hand on my back. "You alive down there? I don't want a dead guy in my bed."

_Dios_, I felt so bad about what I'd done, I didn't even want to dwell on the thought. "Romano, about last night…"

"Forget about it."

"What?" I looked up to where he was. His face flushed and he looked away, arms crossed.

"You were about to apologize, right? Forget about it. You were drunk. You don't need to apologize for what you couldn't control." Then he leaned over and kissed me. On the lips. My eyes widened in shock as he pulled away, frowning. "Besides, I'm glad you were my first. But…don't tell anyone. In fact, don't take this the wrong way for starters, okay?"

"Yay!" That just made my day. I clutched Romano tightly to my chest. "You love me too~"

"Oi, get off! Fuck it, I said no such thing! Geez, I knew you'd take this the wrong way, bastard!" After struggling for a bit, Romano wiggled out of my grasp and fell out of the bed. Standing, he pulled on his jeans and marched off.

"Where are you going?"

He glared at me from over his shoulder. "To brush my teeth! And to get you aspirin! Fucking bastard, I don't think I could live with you complaining every two seconds about your fucking aching head. Don't follow me!"

After he left, I forced myself out of the bed too. Locating my boxers and jeans, I slipped them on. I took the time to explore my surroundings. It was a grand room to say the least. I heard he'd originally had a simpler home closer to the rest of the population. Most of us countries did, but social media made it impossible to live too closely with the people. This was probably one of many rooms in the mansion.

It was very plain, but airy. Light seemed to be everywhere. The walls were painted yellow, the tile floor covered in various rugs. I realized with a start that many of them were similar to the ones I had back when I was still Romano's boss. And the walls…they were the same color as mine.

What few decorations on the walls were all art. I recognized some as Veneziano's work from his Renaissance days. A few were Romano's too. I observed them carefully. He really needed to give himself more credit; there was still skill in them, despite his constant complains of his brother outdoing him. There were also a few marble statues (probably Rome's) and, in the corner, a guitar.

My guitar.

So he'd kept it all these years. Somehow I felt teary just looking at it. I had so many memories with it: teaching Romano how to sing and dance, strumming a few songs while we rested after picking tomatoes, playing whenever his Spanish lessons went poorly…

I ran a finger over it. Even I'd forgotten how nostalgic we countries could get over simple things like instruments…

I sat back down on the bed. It was king-sized with white pillows and sheets, a thin gossamer canopy pulled back to let the morning air in. The air came from the large windows on the far ends. There were two; one to the east, the other to the west. I went to the east one first.

The scene sprawled out before me was incredible. There were green hills and little trees dotting the horizon. The sun was making its way up over them. I could see farmers working in the fields, checking their precious grape vines. Further away was a little village, red-brown roofs seeming to pop out of the rich earth.

It was beautiful.

"I thought I told you to stay put."

"I didn't leave the room." I turned around to find Romano standing in the doorframe, holding a glass of water and a bottle of aspirins. He seemed pissed, but not overly so. I turned back to the balcony. "I didn't realize you had such an amazing view."

"I am the spirit of South Italy," he muttered. "It only makes sense I can see the people who've made my existence. Besides, we're in _Toscana_. It's a given it's beautiful."

I frowned. "Wasn't Tuscany part of Veneziano's land?"

"It is, but we're a unified country now. We move around from about six homes. But this is one of his favorites. He says it's close enough to many large towns full of art and history, like Florence or Pisa. Even Rome."

"I see."

He came over to stand by me. We stood in companionable silence until Romano punched me in my arm.

I rubbed it gingerly. It wasn't that hard, but still. "Ow! What was that for, Romano?"

"No reason. You didn't look on the other side, did you?" When I didn't respond, he sighed. "Figures. Too dumb to go there first. Come on."

He took my hand and dragged me over to the other side of the room. The other window was actually a balcony. Romano opened the windows wider so we could walk out.

This side faced the sea. It was lovely, really. Wildflowers grew in the grass before it turned to sand. Clear blue waters lapped the small inlet lazily. Though there wasn't much sunlight over that side yet, there was still enough to give it a morning glow.

I turned to Romano. "It's nice, but what do you care about the sea."

I expected him to get mad, but he didn't. Instead, he blushed and looked down at his feet. "Well, it faces you home."

I remained silent.

"I dunno what it was about you, but I still missed you despite having _fratello_. Sure, you annoyed me and stuff, and I was glad to go home again instead of living with you, but…" Romano trailed off, staring over the ocean. "Sometimes I thought I should go back. Just to say hi and make sure you weren't too depressed or something."

"Were you worried about me?" I asked. "Aw, Romano, that's so cute!"

"Shut up! Bastard, I didn't want to be blamed for your death or something!" he shouted back. Then he looked back down at his feet. "Okay, maybe a little…"

I went back over to the bed after a moment. It was really sweet what he'd just said, and I couldn't stop smiling for it. So Romano did care after all! That made me feel so much better about, well, everything. It didn't stop my spinning head, though.

I laid down on the sheets (they were fresh; did he actually change them himself?) and closed my eyes.

"Wake up, bastard."

"Huh?" I sat up. Romano was walking towards me, pulling something out from his pocket.

"Here."

The pill bottle flew through the air and nailed me in my forehead. Ow.

Romano just rolled his eyes. "God, your reflexes suck. And here I thought you could catch that, bastard."

"Sorry…"

He watched me, still frowning. Then he came over to the bed and sat next to me. "You're so stupid sometimes, you know?"

I just took the glass from his hand and took a long sip. He took the pain killers and handed me two. Once I took the medicine I set it and the empty cup on the bedside table and smiled. I felt the bed shift as Romano stood up.

I didn't even think; I grabbed his wrist. "Don't go."

"You need sleep."

Eyes shut, I pouted. "Please?"

Silence, then:

"Fine. But just this once!"

"Okay!"

I yanked Romano down onto the bed next to me. He made an indignant sound, but complied. Pulling him close to my chest, I nuzzled into his hair and smiled. After a long moment, he curled up next to me too.

"_Te amo_, Romano," I whispered.

"Bastard!" He seemed to hesitate, but I swore I later heard him whisper in Spanish, "_Te amo...tambien_."

* * *

_**Edit: **__Thank you to everyone for correcting my Spanish and leaving in a few notes of editing. I think it's beta'd now... :P_

* * *

_I hope that was to your liking! My first attempt at writing anything M-rated, to tell you the truth. Anyway, please leave a comment below if you thought it was good. I'll also be open to any constructive criticism. If you speak Italian, French, Spanish, or German and saw any glaring mistakes, message me about those too!_

_I put the cross in there to show the strong connection between the two countries in religion. I know that both have a high number of Catholics. Sorry if it was too random or stupid to mention._

_If there's anyone who wants me to write a one-shot or short story starring their favorite pairing(s), either leave a comment or shoot me a PM; I'm taking any requests into consideration._

_Thanks for reading! Until some other time!_

_-Sushi_


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